Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66977 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“In the makeup department!”
Between her word choice and inability to stop trembling, it’s easy to assess she’s not a threat.
Or if she is, then she’s a very good one who I’ll push down the stairs if necessary.
Relinquishing my hold is followed by gently turning her around to face me. “Why have you been followin’ me?”
“Y-Y-Y-You’re WonderWahl’s brother, right?” She gives her leather jacket covered shoulder a soothing rub. “His older brother. The military one. The one he gets lunch or dinner or goes for a run with. Listens to Willie Nelson but would never smoke with him.”
Suspicion has me folding my arms firmly across my chest. “The latter is awfully specific.”
“He did a Tok on it,” Claudia girlishly gushes, twirling a strand of her dark locks. “It was so funny.”
Doesn’t sound funny.
Sounds like something worth beating his ass over the next time I see him.
“Anyway, I recognized you earlier from the pictures and kinda…followed you up here…to…see if maybe you would…” her fidgeting behavior tells me everything I need to know.
She’s not an operative.
At least not in the sense I’m well acquainted with.
Claudia’s simply a puck bunny who saw an opportunity she couldn’t pass up.
“Give him my number?”
“I do that, and you forget about this little hand to hand combat hiccup that occurred here. Understood?”
“Totally!” She pulls a business card out of her black corset top and extends it in my direction. “He can text me or DM me or Snap me. Whatever he wants.” Claudia leans slightly forward inspiring me to lean slightly away. “Whenever he wants.” Her expression transposes to one that’s almost deadly. “Got it?”
“Yup.”
“Eeek!” squeaks the petite female. “Thank you! Thank you!” Traipsing down the steps is done during a new verbal tangent to herself. “IgottatextCrystal. Ohmygodshesnevergonnabelieveme! I shouldSnapthis!No!GoLive! Idefffffinnitteellyyyyneeeedtogolive!”
Baffled and slightly disturbed, I shake off the incident and step back into the practically empty hallway. I make the tactical choice to do a full circle of the floor of suites to avoid any more possible fangirls or actual attackers before heading for the room where my family is.
The door hasn’t even had time to finish shutting when Angel Cake cautiously calls to me, “Cowboy…we need to go.”
Horror does its best to stay hidden in my tone along with my expression. “Why?”
“Blu says work needs us.”
“Blu?” Pinching my brow tightly together occurs on a growl. “Why the fuck didn’t he call me?”
“He says he did. You didn’t answer.”
That’s because I was probably trying to disarm a hockey ho.
“When?” I ask as opposed to explaining my absence. “When does he need us?”
“Now.”
If my second needs us now, that can only mean one of two things.
Either she really is in danger here or Wiz finally fucking has something we can use.
Chapter 9
Arley
Blu impishly leans forward onto the palms of his hands and kicks his chin in our direction. “That a hickey?”
“What?!” Frantically touching my neck occurs without hesitation. “No!” I tug my bright green tank to one side while doing everything I can to contort myself into a better position to possibly spot the mark I don’t remember seeing earlier. “Or at least I think no.” Panic pierces my voice during the continued searching. “And now I’m praying no because talking to all of my boyfriend’s parents with a big ass hickey on my neck would have been the most awkward thing to ever happen to me.”
“Even more awkward than having a pair of underwear fall out of your hoodie pocket during a sexually mixed messages conversation with your Applied Mathematics for Non-Mathematicians professor?” Slater causally challenges from where he’s standing beside me.
“Why?!” Snapping my head up to him is attached to tossing my hands in the air. “Why would you bring that up?!”
“Seemed relevant.”
“What type of mixed messages?” Blu amusedly questions from the opposite side of the island. “Like you wanting to bang him but him being married so it would be a bad idea?”
“How is that relevant?”
“I – unlike the non-cape wearing crusader over there – never said it was.”
Horror and embarrassment have my jaw unhinging.
“However, if it makes you feel better, you’re not the one with the hickey.” My other bodyguard’s beam grows blinding. “He is.”
“I gave you a hickey?!” Mortification flies my hands over my mouth for a minor moment. “Seriously?!”
“Yes.” Slater states to his best friend prior to dropping his gaze to mine. “And yes. I noticed it when I was originally getting dressed for the game.”
“Originally?” Blu chimes in.
“Why didn’t you say something?!”
“What do you mean originally?” he quietly investigates.
“Or let me cover it with makeup?!”
“Why would you get dressed and then undressed and then redressed for the game?” Slater shoots him a quirked eyebrow and a crooked smirk, a combination that causes Blu to slowly, mirthfully nod. “Nice, man.”
“Ohmygod,” I grumble shielding my face with my palms for a second time.
“Relax, Angel Cake.” His fingertips lovingly peel mine away from my reddening complexion. “I knew my t-shirt and hoodie would do the hidin’. And even if it didn’t? I still wouldn’t wear makeup.”